


Earning It

by justalittlegreen



Series: Sunshine and Filth [13]
Category: MASH (1970), MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M, R&R, Seoul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 19:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16582820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: What it takes to get a little R&R around here. Second chapter will have all the smut.





	1. How They Got There

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daylight_angel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daylight_angel/gifts).



"You know," says Hawkeye, tapping the blown-up-glove-balloon gently from hand to hand, "I pretended to be in love with Frank once to see if it would get me a pass to Tokyo. I was going for a kind of need-to-re-orient myself angle."  
  
BJ snorts from his cot, where he's been flopped facedown since they got out of surgery. "Did it work?"  
  
"Nah," Hawkeye answers. "The shrink they sent thought he saw some kind of deeper problem. Tried to have me committed into the Tokyo funny farm. Had to get him run out of camp before he got away with it."

BJ can only imagine what scheme Hawk and Trapper must've cooked up to make that happen. "Did you ever get to Tokyo?"

Hawk sighs. "Not that time. We were this close, but the choppers came in just as we were about to drive out."

"What's R&R like anyway?"

Hawkeye catches the balloon and holds it in his fingertips. "Well, it depends. In Seoul, it's crowded, hot, dirty, but with real buildings and less in the way of shellings. The biggest advantage is seeing a crowd of different faces - and sleeping in a bed that's long enough for your head AND your feet. Tokyo, though - I've never been, but I've heard lovely things. Wonderful things. They say you feel like you're actually out of the war."  
  
BJ rolls over. "How long did you have to wait before you had your first R&R?"

"Probably four months."  
  
BJ yawns. "Wonder when mine's going to be."  
  
"Probably no time soon, given the way you carry on. R&R is a PRIVILEGE" Frank intejects from the corner.  
  
Hawkeye rolls his eyes and meets BJ's across their cots. "Why, haven't we all been good little boys this year? Stitching up the children and sending them back in working condition?"  
  
"And all with a smile, too," BJ adds.  
  
"Aw, shut your traps," Frank grouses. "I'm trying to sleep over here."  
  
**  
  
It takes three more weeks, actually. Two of the most dead-time weeks they've had since BJ's arrived - weeks in which they race cockroaches, do a thorough scrub-out of Post-op, nail Frank's boots to the flagpole, and host a beach-themed summer party (in which hawaiian shirts and improvised bikini tops are mandatory) and actually get sick of poker. BJ's letters to Peg get longer and longer; he's starting to imagine their lives together again. Her replies are short but loving, and he assumes she's keeping busy. There's too many prying eyes in search of a distraction for him and Hawk to get any time alone - they'd be too missed. But they sit side by side at every meal, shoulder to ankle, and it's more than BJ knows he deserves.

And then, in the third week, they're blasted - four choppers try to land at once, and ambulances come from all directions. BJ and Hawk don't see daylight for days, catching naps on empty surgical tables and eating whatever Margaret shoves behind their masks. By the third full day, Hawkeye starts to lose his temper, snapping at the tiniest infractions, and BJ goes so quiet that Hawk starts to lose track of where he is. The nurses, for their part, rise to the occasion - by hour 80, they're so in sync with the doctors that hardly anyone has to speak. Scalpels and clamps are passed from hand to hand without so much as a grunt. Everyone tries to make Potter take a few hours, but he insists on holding his own among the "whippersnappers." It's only after he loses a patient - his first of the session - that he agrees to take two hours to rest. 

Time narrows in those hours. BJ blinks, certain he just sewed up these same wounds on the same kid yesterday. He yawns behind his mask and looks up to find Nurse Able asleep on her feet across the table. He reaches out and nudges her with his wrist, tells her to get out. Margaret steps up to take her place, without any of her usual scolding. They're not machines. They have to wear out sometime.

First, they run out of masks, then gloves. They soak their hands in alcohol and dive in barehanded, pulling out bits of shrapnel with their fingernails. "This isn't meatball surgery anymore," Hawkeye mutters in disgust. "This is - this is clown surgery. A total joke."   
  
There are losses, but hardly time to register them. No time to grieve. Not even for the ones who died waiting for their turn on the table.  
  
When, at last, the deluge faces, Hawkeye staggers into the light. "Whaday is it?" he asks blearily.   
  
"Friday," answers Radar.   
  
"I could've sworn it was Tuesday."  
  
"No sir. It was Tuesday the last time you were outside, though."  
  
"Well, I want a refund. The US Army owes me half a week."  
  
"I'll say it does," Potter chimes in, sidling up alongside them. "Tell you what, Pierce - get a good 12 hours sleep and then you and Hunnicutt come see me. You deserved a break halfway through that marathon; it's time you get one."  
  
"Thanks, Colonel," says Hawkeye absently, not fully registering Potter's implications.   
  
When he gets back to the Swamp, BJ and Frank are already passed out. Hawk contemplates a shower as his eyes close. He doesn't even have the energy to lie down.   
  
**  
  
"Hawk. Hawk, come on. Let's get you up."   
  
"What? No. Not getting up."  
  
"No, I mean let's get you into bed."  
  
"What happened? Why am I on the floor?"  
  
"Beats me, but it seems like you couldn't make it the last two feet and collapsed in front of the door. Now come on, you're going to ruin your back if you don't get into bed and then you'll be REALLY fun to deal with."  
  
BJ slides an arm under Hawk's and drags him to bed.   
  
"Beej?"  
  
"Hawk?"  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
"0200 by my count. I just got up to go to the latrine and nearly fell over you."  
  
Hawk grunts and curls up on his side the way he does when he's inviting BJ to join him. BJ picks up the blanket and tenderly tucks it around Hawkeye. "I wish I could join you," he whispers into Hawk's sleeping ear. "But we're not alone tonight."  
  
"Not just us chickens," Hawkeye mumbles. "But soon."  
  
"Soon?"  
  
"Yeah soon. Potter -" but he doesn't finish the sentence before he's asleep again.  
  
**  
  
The sound of Radar's signature terrible bugling isn't enough to wake them, but Potter comes to bang on the door with a hearty "PIERCE! HUNNICUTT!" which causes BJ to sit up like a shot and Hawkeye to roll straight out of bed into a pile of scrubs on the floor.   
  
"Casualties?" says Hawkeye, already fumbling for his boots.  
  
"Nope," Potter replies. "I'm kicking you out." He holds two weekend passes up to the window. Hawkeye leaps up like he's seen gold, yanks open the door and snatches the scraps of paper from Potter's fist like he's afraid the colonel will take them back.

"SEOUL, BEEJ! Say goodbye to your favorite of the cockroaches and tell them you'll write from the dingy, bombed-out paradise to which we've scored a none-expenses-paid weekend!"  
  
Potter can't help but chuckle at Hawkeye's glee. The boys do deserve the time - they've been going above and beyond since Day 1, not just in surgery, but in camp morale, too. Maybe with Hunnicutt around, Hawkeye won't come back as drunk this time.   
  
"Train leaves at 0900, gentlemen. Don't let me see you until you're rested and relaxed."  
  
"Perfect. I'll see you in about six months," Hawkeye calls after him.  
  
  
  
  


 


	2. Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the laundry never quite happens.

There are, in fact, two rooms available at the hotel in Seoul. 

The bathroom is at the end of the hallway and BJ spends a full half hour in the shower, relishing the feeling of his feet on a tile floor, and the water only goes cold after 20 full, glorious minutes. He lathers up and scrubs with something approaching luxury, takes his time shaving, and makes his way back to his room, towel knotted around his hips.

As soon as he gets inside, Hawkeye knocks. He's only in shorts and an undershirt, but has his suitcase with him. He barges past BJ without even looking at him, starts rifling through his clothes, and stuffing them into his pack. "Listen, one of the best things about being here is that you can send your laundry out and it comes back to you actually clean. Give me everything."

"Everything?" BJ says slowly, raising an eyebrow leaning against the wall.  
  
"I'm telling you, it's incredible. Your socks will smell like they were washed only a month ago." Hawkeye finishes grabbing what's left of BJ's carefully folded clothes and finally looks up.   
  
BJ's smirk melts into a full grin, gleeful and delighted and just a hint smug as Hawk's jaw drops. He drops the laundry, too. 

"Who said you were allowed to wander the halls like that? It's irresponsible. Someone's going to concuss themselves on a doorframe."

"Someone like you?"  
  
He watches Hawkeye swallow and feels the heat rise in his chest. Something about the way Hawk is staring at him should make him feel self conscious, but instead makes him feel like strutting. Hawk's eyes are wide and wanting, and he's taking BJ in like a piece of art.

"Hey," says BJ, unable to keep the tease out of his voice. "My eyes are up here, mister."

"Yeah, but my attention is all down here," Hawk replies absently, all but licking his lips at the sight of BJ's hipbones dipping beneath the towel.

"Were you going to do something with my laundry? Or were you going to leave me something to change into before you chucked it off to the cleaners?"  
  
Hawkeye looks up and their eyes meet for a breath. Gd, those eyes - those small lines that only appear when Hawk's laughing for real, the way he can tell mischief from affection all by the way Hawk's eyes shift. They're full of both right now. Hawk slowly bends without breaking eye contact and gathers up all of BJ's clothes again. 

"What if I didn't?"

BJ plants his feet wide in the narrow door entrance. "I'd like to see you try."  
  
"I'd like to see you in a towel and nothing else for the next three days," Hawkeye blurts out. It's mostly an accident. Mostly. 

 

 

 

They joked all the way to Seoul, their usual banter of ragging on the war, the glee of escaping Ouijongbou, recounting the ways Frank would surely miss them. But though they sat pressed together in the jeep - it seemed awkward to have space between them after all this time - BJ noticed that Hawkeye shied away from flirting with him. None of the banter he expected - honeymoon jokes? Maybe referring to this as a date? He wasn't sure where Hawkeye would take it, but he seems to have taken it...nowhere. And now, this. Now, with nothing between them, nothing threatening them, nothing interrupting them - 

and nothing exusing them. No 20-hour OR shift. No dead kids. No desperate instinct to cling to anything that feels like life in the face of so much death. 

No letters from Peggy, either.

 

Hawkeye watches BJ's face change like a cloud in the wind. One minute, he's all smirk and smugness and definite flirtation, but now, faced with the reality of what Hawk's put on the table, he seems - uncertain. Damnit. He's pushed it too far. He's thinking about Peggy. Hell, Hawk's thinking about Peggy. Just because he has her relative permission to do whatever necessary to keep BJ alive and sane doesn't mean she wants him to steal her husband away to Seoul for a weekend of revelry and -

it's not just revelry. 

 

"Beej," says Hawk softly, his voice kind and low and urgent, "relax. It's okay. I'm still me, and you're still you. Nothing has to happen right now. Nothing has to happen anywhere, at any time, between anyone. I'm here for so many reasons, and I'm so glad you're here with me. For many reasons. MANY reasons, okay?"  
  
"I'm glad you're here with me, too," BJ answers quietly. "Sorry, Hawk, I just -"

"Don't even say it. It's okay. Look, I'll leave you some clothes and just go take this - uh, here, how about - " as he fumbles through the pile of clothing, BJ walks across the small room until he's standing right in front of Hawk and catches him by the arm.  
  
"You don't have to do that."

"No, really, I want to -"

"Hawkeye. Stop."

And for the second time, Hawk drops his bundle. He doesn't look up. He stands inches from BJ, staring down at his feet, tension gathering in his shoulders so rapidly BJ can practically see it. Hawkeye's shadow - the wave of self-doubt and fear that overtakes him every time he second guesses himself.  
  


BJ hurts at the thought of him bringing on the shadow. His hesitation. His own doubts.

"Hawk?"  
  
"Beej, I can't do this."

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Hawk."  
  
"No, I mean - I can't. I want to. I - I want this. More than anything. But I - I made a promise."  
  
"To whom?"  
  
"To myself. And to you. And, Peggy, I guess."  
  
BJ lets out a long breath. Peg's name hangs between them like an oncoming storm.  
  
"What did you promise?"  
  
Hawk's voice cracks as he whispers, "that I would never take you away from her."

 

Before BJ knows what he's doing, Hawk is in his arms, and BJ's head is buried in his neck and he is whispering fiercely "never. Never. Never never never never never. You will NEVER take me away from her. I promise. Never never. Not you. Not your fault," and Hawkeye is shaking, long shuddery breaths. BJ's shoulder is quickly slick with sobs, but it feels so good - so  _right -_ to be holding him like this. And, he realizes, his reassurances are real. He wasn't sure until that moment, but he knows now, somehow, irrevocably and certainly: there is space for them both. Maybe not forever, maybe not even past Korea, but for right now, he loves them both, and the realization cracks something inside him. Something that lets in a flood of light.

He loves Hawkeye.

 

It doesn't hurt.  
  
He's also not the only one who notices how aroused they both are. 

 

Hawkeye pulls away long enough to scrub at his face with his sleeve. "You mean that?" he asks, looking up at BJ, eyes searching for whatever his real intentions might be. But BJ's eyes are bright, too, and as plain and honest as Hawkeye's ever seen them. 

"I mean it. What happens here - it does not ruin things. It can't. How can it, when all I want to do right now is kiss you and then write a letter to my wife?"  
  
"About kissing me?"  
  
"Well, no. But I could honestly say that I loved her and couldn't wait to come home to her. And I could honestly say right now that - " his voice hitches slightly as he nearly says what he's not quite ready to admit aloud - "I couldn't wait to be here with you and I'm so glad I am. And both are true."  
  
A look passes Hawkeye's face that he can't quite read - dark and pensive and anxious - but it passes quickly. They're still holding each other's arms and BJ tightens his grip and pulls Hawkeye in close to kiss him, and suddenly, whatever doubts and fears have been standing between them are swept aside as Hawk opens his mouth to BJ and slides a hand into his hair, gripping deep and tight and pulling just enough that BJ has to reach for him and the sound that comes out of BJ is so full of desperate, naked want that it's all Hawk can do not to throw him down on the bed -

there is a bed.

There is a bed, and it is not the queen-size luxury waiting for BJ at home, but it is significantly bigger than any army cot and BJ suddenly very much wants to be on. that. bed. But also doesn't want to stop kissing Hawk long enough to breathe, because there is time. There is time, and no one is coming for them, and the bed will still be there in a few minutes. So BJ yields, melts into Hawk, who is all cotton and sweat and stubble. He works his hands down Hawk's back and tugs at the hem of his shirt, and Hawk slips back long enough to let him pull it off before racing back into BJ's arms and whispering, "Gd, you feel so good."

Hawkeye's skin is electrifying against BJ's - smooth and taut over lean, ropy muscles. BJ's brain automatically jerks into its anatomy recitation, and BJ responds by sinking his teeth into Hawk's scapula, which makes him shudder and jerk against BJ's hips, grinding against him almost instinctively. A heady rush fills BJ from head to toe - _he did that_ \- he apparently does to Hawk what the thought of Hawk's body does to him. So he bites him again. And this time, Hawkeye throws his back and screams through clenched teeth.   
  
"You're - you're going to leave a mark if you keep that up," he says, panting as he paints wet kisses down BJ's neck to his clavicle. 

BJ leans back just enough to meet Hawk's eye.

"Good," he growls before going in for a matching one on the other side.  
  
"Well," Hawkeye gasps in between long kisses, "Two can play that game." He finds the tenderest spot on BJ's neck and sucks the skin of it between his teeth, running his tongue over the sensitive, freshly-shaved skin. BJ growls deeper, and doesn't pull away until Hawk's finished, signing his handiwork with a featherlight kiss on the already-blooming bruise.   
  
_Damn._  
  
"Hawk - I - "

"mmm?"  
  
"I don't think I can stand much longer -"  
  
"Funny, you don't seem to be having a problem  _standing_...at attention," he teases. "Is this your way of trying to get me into bed?"  
  
"Trying? I'll show you trying." BJ grabs Hawk by the back of his neck and muscles him toward the bed, walking slowly while Hawk moans and scrambles to keep his footing.

"Beej -  _Beej - "_  
  


BJ freezes, relaxes his hold for a second, looks at Hawk with worry - "What? What is it?"  
  
Hawk melts into a Cheshire Cat smile. "I was just going to say please."  
  
BJ's grip tightens again as he resumes the walk. "Please what, Hawkeye?" he whispers at the edge of Hawkeye's ear.  
  
"Please - oh gd, please take me down - I want - I want"

"This?" Hawkeye feels the bed against the back of his legs and then he's falling, falling but BJ is somehow behind him and on top of him and he lands softly with BJ's arms cradling his back. The towel around his hips is barely hanging on, and suddenly, even the acres of skin between them isn't enough for BJ. He hooks a few fingers into the waistband of Hawk's shorts like a question and leans puts his lips right next to Hawk's ear.

"I want all of you," he whispers, hot and urgent, rocking his hips on Hawk's thigh as he does. "I want you unraveling in my hands, I want to see you come apart, want you to let yourself go, give it over, give it to me. I want all of you."   
  
Hawkeye's reply is a strangled "yes" as he arches and bucks and presses his thigh aginst BJ who nearly loses it at the sound. His hand is shaking as he works Hawk's shorts over his hips, and as he backs off long enough to get them all the way on the bed, the towel falls from his hips. 

It's not that he's never seen Hawk naked before - it's not even that they've never  _been_ naked together. It's just never been like this. Lying down, on a real bed, without fear or grief driving the need, but want - the simple hunger of bodies that need connection, seeking each other for whatever sparks may come. 

And gd, are there sparks. Wherever their bodies meet, BJ feels pricks of heat and pleasure and he rides it like ocean, letting each wave carry him as far as it will go. Hawkeye's skilled hands are working their magic again, at the back of his neck and the small of his back, his legs wrapped around BJ's hips and BJ suddenly wishes he could be entirely connected with Hawkeye, inside him, feeling him stretch and pant - not that he's ever imagined the mechanics of it before, but he can't imagine another way to be as deep with him - or in him - as he wants. 

He wouldn't even know where to begin, so he reaches between them, and as Hawkeye arches into BJ's fist and his heels dig into BJ's back, BJ rests a little more of his weight on Hawkeye's belly, feeling them pressed together, feeling Hawk thrust against his skin over and over until Hawk starts stammering, "Beej - Beej - oh gd please - yes - you - I'm so close Beej - please - please"  
  
"Yes," BJ instinctively growls, "yes," and he doesn't even know why Hawk's asking for permission or why he appears to be granting it or why the sound of Hawkeye saying "please" is enough to take him right to the edge but also that he wants to hear it a thousand times, possible in the next two minutes, but Hawk is coming apart underneath him and  _wailing,_ full throated cries of "Beej -  _Beej - BJ"  
_

and BJ can only answer, "Yes."

 

As soon as everything comes to stillness, BJ reaches for the laundry pile and, out of habit, grabs a shirt to clean up with. Hawkeye chuckles lazily as BJ cleans them off before pulling BJ back again. He kisses him slowly, savoring everything it means. They have time.  _They have time._ There is no one coming. When they manage to break away, BJ rolls onto his back to catch his breath and Hawk curls up next to him in a way they can't ever do back at camp, flinging his leg over BJ's waist and laying his head on BJ's chest, taking a minute to nuzzle the curls there, and it's the first thing he's ever done that reminds BJ of Peg so specifically that he stops breathing for a second.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just - it's a lot."  
  
Hawkeye's guard flares up. 

"You don't - do you - " he takes a deep breath and hopes his voice doesn't come out as small as he feels  - "do you regret it?"  
  
BJ hears the tiny quaver that he knows Hawk is desperately trying to suppress and feels it lodge in his own throat. "Hawk,  _no."_  
  
"you sure?"

BJ leans up on his elbow and looks Hawk straight in the eye. "I don't ever want you to ask me that again. I don't want you to ever think you're not worth it to me, understand? When I say it's a lot, I also mean it's a lot of  _good."_  
  
  
Hawkeye gives him one of his small, slow, most beautiful smiles that bathes his whole face in sunshine. "It is a lot of good, isn't it."

Satisfied that Hawk isn't going to have a crisis of confidence in the next ten seconds, BJ lies down again and pulls Hawk back onto his chest, gently running his fingers through his hair. If he didn't know better, he could swear that Hawkeye's purring. Supple and languid and curled up in his own patch of sunshine, BJ smiles at the image. Hawkeye is definitely a cat with cream on his whiskers.

As if he knows what BJ's thinking, Hawk lazily rubs a hand over BJ's stomach, scratching it oh so lightly. It gives BJ the shivers - he's too aroused for it to feel like tickling, but it returns his attention to the fact that Hawkeye has a clear view of what their little adventure has done to him. He feels Hawk's cheek shift against his chest as Hawk grins, dipping his hand lower and lower, making BJ gasp and twitch with every delicious stroke. By the time he reaches his target, BJ is writhing and twisting, grabbing a pillow and burying his face in it so he can be as loud as he thinks he can get away with. Hawkeye's hand is doing things that are downright unspeakable - mostly because BJ can't form words, just yelps and moans and the tiniest whimper when he feels something impossibly warm and wet engulfing him completely. He lifts the pillow and looks down to see Hawkeye deep in concentration, eyes closed 

 

mouth full.   
  
It's all BJ can do not to lose himself right then and there.   
  
Hawkeye doesn't just suck - he laps, he kisses, he nibbles, he swirls his tongue in ways that make BJ's stomach clench. He tips his head back and opens his mouth and breathes as hard as he can without screaming. Hawkeye laughs, a thick, dark laugh, and it reverberates through BJ all the way up his sternum. BJ props himself up on his elbows to get another better look, when Hawk pulls off entirely and then beckons BJ forward, crooking his finger towards him. BJ sits up slowly, fighting a head rush as Hawk slides off the bed and kneels on the floor between his legs. He gives BJ a loving, tender kiss on the inside of his thigh, and BJ's breath catches as he feels Hawkeye's two-day stubble, prickly and hot. Then, Hawk takes BJ's right hand, and kisses his palm before slipping his tongue between BJ's middle fingers and BJ buckles hard, nearly doubling over with the surprise how how good that feels.  
  
And then - oh gd, what is he doing now - Hawk takes his hand and puts it on his head. BJ can't help but give him a little scratch and a pet, and Hawk looks up and says, "show me." And suddenly BJ is back in the shower that awful day after surgery and he remember's Hawk's hand in his hair, showing him the way. So he digs his fingers in a little deeper, and guides Hawk down.   
  
"Open your mouth, Hawk." He doesn't need to say it - Hawkeye's already doing it - but he likes the way it makes Hawk moan when he gives orders. He tries to remember how it felt from the other side, tries to mind how far down he's pushing it, but he doesn't have Hawk's knowlege, and once or twice he feels Hawk gag and pulls him off in a hurry to let him catch his breath. Still, Hawk smiles at him when he gets himself under control and seems eager to keep going, and BJ finds his rhythm, finally, and _gddamn_ he never wants to leave Hawkeye Pierce's mouth.  
  
The minutes stretch and collapse at once; it feels like both hours and seconds before BJ starts feeling the pulse of the inevitable. He tries to figure out how to warn Hawkeye, starts pulling him off by the hair, but Hawkeye fights back, fights to stay on him -  
  
"Hawk -  _Hawk -_ I'm - I'm going to -" he can't get the rest of the words out because Hawkeye grabs him by the wrist, removes his hand from his hair, grabs him by the waist and holds him tight as BJ goes soaring over the edge, gripping the sheets and gasping Hawkeye's name over and over and Hawkeye doesn't leave him for a second, and it takes a second for BJ's addled brain to figure out what he's doing -  _oh gd, what he's doing_ \- and the thought that Hawk would do that - would take him in and down like that - is as intimate and connected as anything that's ever happened between him and Peg. He doesn't have time to be worried about how Hawk feels or what he tastes like before the wave catches him again, and again.   
  
Hawk stays on him until he goes soft, until the feel of his mouth is almost unbearable. He kisses the inside of his thigh again and whispers, "Don't worry, I'm coming right back." He reappears a few moments later with his canteen, taking a long swig before passing it to BJ. "Your mouth must be dry," he teases.  
  
BJ can't lift his arms yet, so he just shakes his head and pats the bed next to him, and Hawk obliges, curling up back-to-chest, the way they do back at camp. BJ pulls up the blanket and tucks it around them, and they drift off togther, pressed tight, a two-man cot in a much bigger bed.  
  
  



End file.
